Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)(61)

Rubbing her lips furiously, she tried to remove the memory of Bianca's kiss. The softness of the other woman’s lips haunted her. Amaliya’s traitorous mind had somehow interwoven Bianca into her memories. Amaliya had died alone and killed alone. Though Amaliya had seen Bianca virtually every day in class, she had never spoken to her. Yet, Bianca's words haunted her. What did the dream mean? Had Bianca been trying to warn her somehow? Or was it just her own fears manifesting in a nightmare?

Amaliya rocked back and forth, trying to ignore the throbbing of her sex. She felt swollen, violated, and unsatisfied. Pressing the heel of her hand against her eyes, she tried to block the memory of the one time she had sex with The Summoner. It felt like a betrayal of Cian to remember. It hurt to admit that she had felt acute pleasure and utter fulfillment when The Summoner had taken her.

Bianca's words returned to her thoughts.

“We belong to him because he made us. No one will ever be able to take us from him.”

Amaliya swept her hair back from her face as she stared at the clock on the headboard of the bed. Only another hour until sunset.

The Summoner was dead. Long gone. Buried in tiny pieces all over a remote country graveyard. She didn't belong to him anymore, but to herself.

Tears slid down her cheeks. The memory of The Summoner's cruelty and his touch tormented her.

She couldn't wait for the night to fall so she could escape the bed chamber.



*



The heat of the day had dulled as the sun set, but the air was still warm and thick against Innocente’s skin. Sitting in the cab of her grandson’s truck fanning herself with a piece of paper while watching the men work, she once again said a silent prayer for guidance. Ethan had set lanterns around the grave the men were digging up and the light wavered as it cast eerie shadows over their faces.

Closing her eyes, she reached out with the invisible tendrils of her gift. There was no answer. The dead were truly silent in their graves. Not even a whisper of memory remained. She had never experienced anything quite like it. Usually when she entered a graveyard she could feel the wispy remnants of spirits, fragments of the person who had died, painful memories that lingered long after life had departed. She wondered if this particular graveyard had always been this way. She was uncertain since she had not actually entered the graveyard the night they had confronted Amaliya’s creator. When Amaliya had faced The Summoner, she had done it alone. Innocente had escaped with the others and had not actually stepped into the graveyard.

Sergio trudged over to the truck, dragging his shovel behind him. “How are you doing, Grandmama?”

“I’m okay. Anything yet?”

Leaning into the truck, Sergio popped open the Styrofoam ice chest he had purchased earlier in the day and filled with ice and water bottles. He grabbed two and shoved the lid back in place. “Not yet. Kinda hard to figure out which grave might have a piece of him. Could be a really long night.” He twisted the cap off of one of the bottles and drank it in four large gulps.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Innocente said. She knew she sounded like a looped recording, but she couldn’t help it. Something was wrong and it was niggling at her.

“I won’t lie, Grandmama. I would rather be anywhere but in a cemetery at night. But we have to try to save Amal, right?”

Moved by his love for his cousin, Innocente touched his muscular arm lightly. “You’re a good boy, Sergio.” His skin was very warm under her fingers and she felt the beads of sweat dotting his upper lip when he kissed her cheek.

“We’re family, Grandmama. We take care of each other. Besides, after all the shit Amal has been through she deserves a happy ending, right?”

Innocente inclined her head solemnly. “Yes, she does.”

Finishing off the second bottle of water, Sergio threw the empty containers into a plastic bag and wiped his mouth. “I better get back to it. Let me know if you get any bars on the phone. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“I will.”

Innocente sighed, watching Sergio return to his task. She was tired and her back ached, but she didn’t dare take a nap. She felt she had to stay alert and be aware of all that was happening around them.

Clutching her rosary tight in one hand, she continued to pray silently.





Chapter 20


The water in the shower ran hot against Amaliya’s revitalized flesh, warming her, cleansing her, and grounding her. As soon as the sun had set, she had escaped the sleeping chamber she shared with Cian just as he was stirring. She had felt crazed in her own skin, terrified of her dream, and didn’t want to deal with the man she loved until she could gather her wits about her.

It had taken all her willpower to banish the nightmare from her thoughts. The need to flee had been almost unbearable. It had taken all her willpower not to grab a bag, her car keys, and head out of town. The instinct to run was so deeply ingrained in her it felt like an addiction. She had literally felt her body craving the feel of speed as she put the city of Austin behind her.

Instead of running away from the life she had built with Cian, she’d slipped silently in and out of the apartments of the people who lived in the building. She had often teased Cian about living above his pantry, but it wasn’t far from the truth. Since Cian owned the building, both he and Amaliya could enter the apartments of the tenants without an invitation. It made hunting so much easier. Because it was early in the evening, Amaliya only visited the single people living on the floors below them. She never drank from children, but occasionally fed from their parents if there was a lack of people in the building when she needed to sate her hunger.